


Voodoo People

by Megaera18



Category: NCIS: New Orleans
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Supernatural Elements, Voodoo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-09-01 21:22:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20264710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megaera18/pseuds/Megaera18
Summary: Set a few months after Savannah, the love of Christopher LaSalle's life is murdered. Chris has to rescue his brother Cade, who's in a whole heap of trouble. He finds himself far more intimately connected to the supernatural underworld of New Orleans than he ever thought possible.





	Voodoo People

It's five minutes to midnight on St John's Eve, and Chris LaSalle has just reached home after a hard day and a few after work drinks, when the phone call comes, He knows straight away that his brother is in trouble. Cade can be manic at times, and yeah, depressed, but LaSalle has never heard him sound like he's pissing himself in terror. His voice is high, panicky and the words are fired like staccato bullets down the line.

"Chris... I need help! Please... please..."

"Slow down!" Chris takes a deep breath. "Tell me what you need?"

"I'm in trouble with some people... Its bad... I did something stupid! They'll hurt me unless you come... I... I'm sorry..." His brother breaks into noisy sobs.

"Where are you?" The young agent is all business. He's worried, but he's not going to let Cade hear it in his voice. Years of dealing with his brother's crises have shown that a calm approach is best.

Cade stumbles out an address in one of the older parts of town, not exactly reputable, and Chris sighs. "I'll be there as soon as I can," he tries to reassure his brother. "We'll fix this!" Nothing like optimism. 

He grabs the keys to his truck and heads out of the door. The drive takes about 25 minutes, It's one of those infrequent but highly charged nights where the city's more superstitious citizens choose to celebrate their voodoo heritage. One of those nights when the spirits are active and the other world is close to the surface. At least that's what his old grandpaw used to say, and he would know, being a man of power in his day. Chris shakes his head as he steers the truck round a group of revellers in the middle of the street. He's long ago left behind all of that superstitious shit from his childhood, though he has been known to slyly cross his fingers and spit for luck on occasion. Cade had always been into that stuff, but he never had.

Chris turns into the street he's been given the address for, and drives along it a short way. It's quieter here, and the street lights are fewer and more distant. It's altogether darker and almost too quiet, in contrast to the busier parts of town. 

After about half a mile, he stops. This is the place. House number 243 proves to be an ancient, decaying, antebellum mansion, sitting in overgrown grounds, surrounded by mature trees festooned with Spanish moss. The house is, however, lit up. He makes his way towards the front entrance, past the remains of an old fountain, as rotten and decaying as the rest of the property. The lights of the house are dimly reflected in its dark green, stagnant depths.

It sounds as if there's a party going on inside. He can hear the echo of faint music and the murmur of many voices. The door swings open just as he reaches it, and a young woman grins at him impudently.  
"You're expected, Mista LaSalle," she drawls, as if it's a great joke that he's at the door: one he isn't being told.

Chris frowns, but since he really doesn't really have a choice, he goes in. Surprisingly, the house isn't decayed at all inside. It's lush and expensively decorated, in the style of the 1920's. Old money. He's led into the salon, which is filled with groups of people, standing around, talking quietly. Some of them smile when they see him, and not in a good way, but Chris only has eyes for Cade, who's sitting near the front of the room, looking acutely uncomfortable. He's holding a glass of rum, neat; his poison of choice. His hands are visibly shaking. 

The look of relief on his face when he sees Chris is unsettling. Exactly what kind of trouble is his brother in? Cade is unharmed and not exactly looking down the barrel of a gun...

The hush of the crowd is a sign that something is about to happen , and Chris turns towards the source of their interest.

Fuck!

An older man has entered the salon, and the young agent's breath hisses as he recognises the newcomer. Louis Gautreaux, the so-called "witch-king of New Orleans." An arrogant son of a bitch by all accounts, but also one of the unofficial controlling powers of the city. He's rumoured to use blackmail to hold onto power, but nothing has ever been proved against him. He's also allegedly one of the most powerful magical practitioners of his generation, not that Chris believes in that stuff these days. But Cade does! 

Power or not, Gautreaux is dangerous! Oh brother! What the hell had he got himself into?

Then Chris realises he's become the focus of Gautreaux's attention. Dark brown eyes study him intently; assessing him, and apparently finding LaSalle acceptable in some way.

"Welcome, Mr. LaSalle. I've heard a lot about you." Gautreaux glances at Cade, then smiles benevolently. "I'm sure you're wondering why you're here." He looks back at Cade."Do you want to tell your brother what you've done, or shall I?"

Cade hangs his head. He won't look at Chris and he shakes his head mutely. He radiates shame.

"Well then, let me tell you the situation," Gautreaux says. "Your brother has debts, and tonight is the night he has to settle up!"

"Cade...?" LaSalle asks, trying to understand. There's a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"I got into trouble gambling... I was over a hundred grand in the hole..." Cade chokes back a sob as the confession comes tumbling out. "So I bargained with the powers to change my luck!"

So. The powers. Chris knows exactly what that means. His brother, always credulous when it comes to the supernatural garbage they had been spoon-fed as kids, had struck some sort of bargain with Gautreaux to use "magic" to keep him out of a mess! Only Cade could believe that fake magical shit was going to help him!

"What does he owe you?" Chris said resignedly to Gautreaux. He could tell from Cade's face that he wasn't going to like the answer.

"He promised his soul to one of the great powers, if he could get out of debt by St. John's Eve. That's tonight!" Gautreaux said helpfully, like Chris didn't know. "I was happy to negotiate the deal with one of my... sponsors." He gave a crooked smile and his voice dropped to a respectful hush. "Le Seigneur des Tenebres. He who walks in the shadows... One slightly grubby soul pays the debt. Except that it appears your brother's a lying cheat! He can't pay the price that was promised!" 

"Yeah!" Chris said, as memory flooded back. He remembered all too well the time when he was eighteen and grandpa had wanted to involve the two of them in his crazy belief scheme. Cade had enthusiastically taken up the offer, but Chris had told the old fool what he really thought of all that supernatural crap. Cade had gone through with his initiation into the "mysteries" and had dedicated heart and soul to a certain Baron..."

"He's already given his soul to someone else!" Chris acknowledged, playing along with the madman. Why the hell had Cade told the story to Gautreaux?

"Indeed." Gautreaux agreed. He smiled condescendingly. "You're not a believer, are you, Mister LaSalle? Though as the grandson of the great André LaSalle, you aren't exactly ignorant of our world."He ignores the frown Chris gives him.

"Le Seigneur was angry, and was going to punish your brother, but then Cade made us an interesting proposition. He said you might be persuaded to help him out...?"

Chris could hardly credit what he was hearing, and directed a swift glare in his brother's direction. Cade flinched. But Chris knew he'd have to settle up with his brother later. He needed to get them both out of this mess.

"And what exactly are you asking for? Chris demanded. He was growing increasingly angry with the way Gautreaux had exploited his brother's vulnerabilities. "I don't have any money, if that's what you want?"

"The debt is large. Le Seigneur might want your soul," Gautreaux said. "But that's not for me to say. You'll have to negotiate with him yourself. I'm sure you'll have something of value he can use. The bargain will be yours alone, if you take responsibility for your brother's debt." He's smirking, knowing that Chris has few choices.

"I'm so sorry, Chris..." The agent scowls at his brother. He has no idea what he's getting himself into with these nuts, but he's heard enough bad things about Gautreaux over the years to worry him. If he has to play along with the supernatural crap for the moment, then he'll do what he has to till they both get out of here.

"Marie. Show our guest to one of our private rooms, where he can commune with Le Seigneur des Tenebres," Gautreaux ordered. Then to Chris with that irritating smirk, "Your brother will stay here with us till your business has been concluded!"  
Chris frowns. How were they going to play this? Would they get some "possessed" acolyte to pretend to speak for the Shadow Lord?

He follows the young woman up the grand staircase and is led to a door, which she unlocks with a large, brass key. He's shown inside, and she closes the door behind him. He hears the key turn in the lock, and he knows he's locked in.

The room is as lush as the rest of the house, more of a boudoir than a bedroom, with a high, shadowy ceiling, and the room is lit by flickering candles, shielded by elegant amber-glass holders. There's a large, full length mirror on the wall nearby, its frame gold-edged and antique.

He sits on the edge of the bed and sighs. He doesn't believe in the old powers, so he really can't imagine how he's going to play this. Maybe he can just tell them he's given himself to Le Seigneur and they'll believe him? He frowns and stares morosely at his reflection in the big...

"Oh fuck!"

The words are instinctive and filled with shock, as the assumptions of a lifetime are shaken to the core. The figure in the reflection, looking back at him with amusement, isn't him!

He isn't aware of stumbling to his feet, taking half a step, so that the view is clear. His eyes are focused on the image before him. The man is tall, well-built and muscular, and with dark hair and clothing, He's ruggedly handsome, but with an air of danger that makes Chris shiver. Then he notices the eyes...

Chris whimpers softly.

Not human. Not even close. Those eyes are green, luminous and reptilian, with midnight-black slitted pupils. Predatory! Every instinct is screaming at him, telling him to run, but from somewhere, Chris finds the strength to freeze in place. It's like every nightmare of his childhood has come true.

The glass shimmers strangely, and with a kind of inevitability, he watches as the figure steps through the glass and enters the room.

"Mr. LaSalle, I believe..." The being's voice is unexpectedly cultured and urbane, with just a hint of a southern drawl.

Chris wants to run. Oh, how he wants to run... but he knows deep down that running would be the worst thing he could do, so he stays as still as he can, despite the fact that his heart is hammering in his chest and he can feel the adrenaline rush surging through him. Fight or flight... Old as the hills...

The being stops just in front of Chris, and the young agent really doesn't want to think about how powerful this being must be, to actually manifest himself in the flesh; to walk among men. Chris knows, in theory, that only the strongest otherworldly powers reputedly can do that. Baron Samedi... A few others...

"So..." Le Seigneur says. "So... And what things of value do you possess?"

He tilts his head slightly, the movement not quite human, and studies LaSalle for long moments. In that intense scrutiny, something seems to catch his interest, and his smile becomes deeper and more predatory.

"You're here to pay a debt that was owed!" La Seigneur states coolly, his voice business-like. "Shall we bargain?" Chris nods, because his voice has deserted him. Fear does that.

"So. A man with a pure heart and soul. And something else. Something I prize a great deal." His voice is almost purring with satisfaction, and one - oh god, claw-tipped - finger reaches out and traces deliberately down the side of Chris's cheek. The young agent shivers. The next words are totally unexpected.

"You've never been with a man!" 

"What!" Chris finds his voice in a squawk of disbelief.

"A virgin with men," the shadow lord states with certainty, and Chris whimpers, because how in hell does he know?

"A night in my bed will pay half of your brother's debt..." Those predatory eyes watch him closely. "As for the rest... spend some time in my service and the debt will be paid! "His eyes gleam with anticipation. "Well?"

Chris is trapped. Now he's met Le Seigneur, he doesn't doubt that Cade will suffer if the damn debt isn't paid. Having this particular being angry and out for revenge could only lead to one, inevitable conclusion for Cade. A thousand childhood tales of supernatural bargains make that clear. Does he want his brother to die? Is Cade worth a night of Chris LaSalle's life? He shivers, because he knows what the answer has to be.

"All right!"

He's proud of the fact that his voice is so steady, when he's so scared, but there was never any question about what his decision would be.

"Done! You have given your consent to the bargain!" The words are almost ritual. "You freely give yourself to me. A prize indeed!"

He steps closer, well inside the young agent's comfort zone; close enough that Chris can feel the whisper of breath against his skin, and he's aware of the scents of cedar and sandalwood, and something else, heady and exotic...

La Seigneur's next action is so unexpected that Chris freezes on the spot. He kisses Chris! It's nothing like his expectations. The shadow lord's lips are soft and his kiss is gentle; Chris finds himself staring at this being with his lips tingling, because what the hell was that...? He sees amusement flash in those green eyes, then he's kissed again, with more intensity, and oh...!

The warmth that floods through his body is totally new and unexpected, and takes his breath away, so that when it ends, he's staring at his companion in astonishment, so totally out of his comfort zone that he literally has no frame of reference for what's happening to him. It's no longer fear that quickens his heart, though perhaps he's not entirely aware of it. His knees feel weak, but another part of him... Oh god... is stirring in response. This isn't at all what he expected...

He's pushed backwards, yet it's still a surprise when his legs hit against the big bed, and he's falling backwards onto the soft, yielding surface.

This can't be happening. He's lying on a bed with an incredible, mythical being about to... to... take him places he's never been before. The Seigneur looms above him; he's smiling; vast amusement in those impossible green eyes. No cruelty though, Chris is relieved to note. Then he's being kissed again; another one of those fiery kisses that leaves him breathless and flustered and confused...

Gentle fingers are sliding his shirt up over his head, tossing it aside. For a moment, his arms are caught above his head by the fabric, and he's never felt so vulnerable as in that moment. But the Seigneur doesn't hurt him, he captures Chris's mouth in the most amazing kiss, and Chris hears himself moan softly. Green eyes gleam with satisfaction, then a butterfly kiss brushes across the edge of his mouth, his chin, the side of his neck...

He knows it's one of his erogenous zones. Savannah used to nibble exactly in that spot... Right there! Where his neck and shoulder meet... The sharp nip of teeth against his skin sends a frisson of fear through him, yet it feels so damned good he can't stop himself from crying out.

"Yes! I like the sounds you make!" The Seigneur says. "Before the night is out, you'll scream my name!"

"I... don't..." Chris manages to find his voice, trying to focus his thoughts. 

His lover's green eyes seem almost to glow

"Those whom I favour call me Lane," his companion says, and before Chris can process that, his mouth claims one nipple, his tongue teasing it into fullness. Chris groans before he can stop himself. It's not just the physical sensation that's arousing; his skin is tingling everywhere their bodies touch.

He doesn't even remember Lane shedding his clothes, but his companion is somehow naked and above him, the candlelight playing off his powerfully muscled body, leaving no doubt in Chris's mind as to how strong he is.

Chris has always loved having his nipples sucked, and from the wicked gleam of amusement in Lane's eyes, he knows exactly how it feels to the young agent. In fact, his teasing mouth is giving generous attention to them. Then Lane's focus shifts lower, and he's actually licking his way down Chris's belly, making the young agent shudder with pleasure. A few moments sees him fumbling out of his pants.

He's hard. It is a relief when his cock finally springs free. In fact he's so fucking hard he feels like he's made of steel, his rigid cock pressed hard against his belly, small drops of pre-cum oozing from its tip. Lane makes a sound of satisfaction, then his tongue - his damned, almost prehensile tongue is working the slit of Chris's cock, tasting his juices, taking in that rigid length and beginning to suck...

Chris never expected this! The world narrows in focus, so it's only the hot mouth surrounding his cock and the suction. So good...! Chris wants to thrust upwards into moist heat, but he's being held down and he can't move like he needs to. He's not in control of this. He's had blow jobs before, but nothing like this!

Heat is building now, a scorching inferno of desire. He can only cling to Lane and submit to his expert ministrations, as Lane goes down on him, then draws away teasingly, before swallowing him whole. He can feel his balls tighten as the glorious sensation seems to intensify...

"Please...!" He's not sure what he's begging for. Whether he wants it to stop or never end.

Release comes. An explosion and fire and pleasure mingling, as his body shakes in climax, jerking as he comes in Lane's mouth. His companion eagerly swallows the offering, licking him clean, tongue probing the oversensitive tip of his cock to devour every last drop. Dazed, Chris tries to comprehend what's just happened. He's just let a powerful voodoo lord do whatever he wanted to Chris. He can't quite take it in. Lane moves so that he's face-to-face with the young agent, his eyes dark with satisfaction and desire. Chris finds himself being kissed passionately. He yields to the kiss, Lane's tongue probing his mouth, tasting himself briefly on Lane's lips.

"Mine!" Lane says possessively. He smiles at the dazed expression on Chris's face. "I enjoy your pleasure, my sweet. Not your pain! I promise never to hurt you!" The predatory gleam appears in his eyes again. "Now roll over! You're going to please me another way. I promise you, you'll scream my name this time!"

Chris moans softly. He's seen the size of Lane's hardness and he can't stop a small shiver, but he still does as he's ordered. He finds himself lying on his stomach, trying to pretend he's anywhere else, so that he doesn't have to think about what's going to happen. Lane lies next to him, and the first touch is soft on his shoulder; another one of those disturbingly gentle, tingling kisses that wake things inside of him that he prefers not to admit to himself exist.

"You're tense," Lane says softly. His kisses begin to drift downwards. He's taking his time. Wickedly slow, in fact, so that despite his fear, Chris begins to feel heat pool low down in his belly... 

He doesn't expect what happens next. What Lane begins to do with his tongue. Indescribable, intimate exploration that makes him scream before he can stop himself, his hips pushing forward helplessly as he loses all self control.

"Oh god!" Then, as a certain spot inside him is reached. "Lane!"

He clutches at the bedclothes beneath him, his hands fisting in the soft cloth, gasping and instinctively thrusting into the sheets. 

No-one has ever done that! Waves of intense pleasure are short-circuiting his brain. He's dimly aware that he's being worked open, prepared for what's about to occur, but in that moment, he doesn't care. Sensation is all. Sweet, wicked, addictive...

If he was hard before, he feels like his cock is a rod of iron now; the hardest he's ever been. He barely registers the fact that his legs are being nudged apart. Slick fingers finish the job of teasing him open, but he's so far beyond caring right now. Nothing about this is unpleasant; it's the most incredible experience of his life. He moans as Lane moves behind him, then he's being impaled. Lane feels huge, unyielding, as he pushes into the young agent and Chris whimpers at the burn, fear momentarily taking over. Yet Lane's gentle, his movements slow, giving Chris a chance to get used to him. They lay still for a few minutes, Chris feeling that initial panicky feeling begin to subside. His breathing slows and steadies, though his heart is still beating far too fast...

"Trust me...!" Lane murmurs. Then he begins to move, and Chris gasps, because it feels so strange... Then...

"Oh!" That again. That white hot place inside him. He hears Lane chuckle, then it happens again... Each time Lane pushes into him, he seems to aim unerringly at that pleasurable place.

Chris has heard about it, but until tonight, he's never known what the reality was. So good. He's forgotten about being afraid by now. He's moving in time to Lane's thrusts, and at some point, and he's gotten with the program, instinctively moving with Lane. Each moment seems more intensely pleasurable than the last, taking him higher and higher, until finally he feels the pleasure reaching a peak. He's distantly aware of someone screaming, a high, ecstatic sound, way out of control, then orgasm washes over him.

Moments afterwards, he hears Lane hiss and feels the shuddering motion of his hips as Lane spills himself deep inside the young agent.

Some time later, he's lying in Lane's arms, floating in a pleasurable haze. He's never felt so alive; so complete.

"So..." Lane says. His lips brush against the side of Chris's neck, making him shiver. "Did you enjoy it...?"

Chris blushes fiercely and chooses not to answer. Lane laughs.

"I see," he says, his green eyes gleaming, then he's above Chris and leaning in for a kiss, incredibly intense, plundering Chris's mouth. He's on top of the young agent, nudging his legs apart, pulling his knees up and positioning himself for face-to-face entry.  
"Ah!" After the initial moments of adjustment, Chris finds the second time just as pleasurable as the first, except that it seems even more intense in this position. He's hard again within minutes, his body reacting to Lane, moaning as his lover begins to move. Lane captures his mouth, as if he can take possession of each little sound, like a trophy. His tongue possesses Chris's mouth probing and penetrating, taking everything.

At some point, Chris stops being passive, lying there and taking it. In this position, he can be a more active participant, and he's shamelessly pulling Lane closer, kissing him back, his arms tightening around Lane's neck. Needing more... Feeling something wake inside him; his inner slut, perhaps?

Chris can tell that Lane is pleased with his newly found enthusiasm; especially when Chris gets with the programme enough to wrap his legs around the other's body, trying to pull him in deep. It's largely instinctive. There are instincts that are deeper than reason, and he's not very skilled, this only being his second time, but he feels like he's complete when Lane is buried deep within him and he's been kissed and held and... wanted. It's something he's been missing for a while now.

All the one night stands in the world couldn't give him the feeling of intimacy and wholeness he's experiencing now. And yeah, it feels so good! He loves the fiery pleasure of sex with Lane. He likes being held. And as for those delicious kisses... Incredible! But best of all are those powerful thrusts that take his breath away, pinning him down, pleasuring him in ways he has no words for. It's not long before he bucks against Lane, his climax washing over him...

Lane growls, bites the side of Chris's neck just a shade too sharply - he'll have a hell of a hickey tomorrow - and his seed floods into Chris.

They lie together afterwards, Chris curled drowsily against his partner. He's pretty tired now, and no wonder after the exertions of the night. The companionship is welcome after the months he's been alone; in fact, he's like a thirsty man in the desert, the way he craves Lane's touch.

Lane has noticed. The final time is leisurely and gentle, and more tender than anything has gone before. Taking Chris from behind, slow and measured. The young agent doesn't have to do anything except lie there and let himself be loved. Lane plays particular intention to that favourite sweet spot on Chris's neck. He can sense how close to exhaustion the young agent is. At some point, his fingers tangle with Chris's and Chris clutches at him, moaning softly as their lovemaking reaches its climax.

Chris's eyes slide shut. He's utterly and completely spent and doesn't even feel Lane's withdrawal. He's certainly not aware of the gentle way Lane strokes his tousled hair.

"Mine...!" Lane says softly.

*************  
He's lying face down on the bed, completely and utterly spent, drifting in a pleasurable haze, when he feels Lane settle next to him on the bed. He becomes aware of Lane gently tracing a finger across the surface of his left arm, tracing a pattern on his skin. It tingles, and Chris opens his eyes blearily, fighting against the utter exhaustion that threatens to claim him.

"Wha...?" His voice is hoarse from screaming.

Green eyes gleam as Lane studies him; he looks immensely satisfied, and no wonder. He's had exactly what he wanted from Chris tonight, in every possible respect. Where he touches Chris LaSalle's skin, a fine, dark line marks the surface, in an intricate pattern, like an exotic tattoo. The pattern draws the eye, yet there's something strange and powerful about it that's vaguely unsettling.

"It's traditional," Lane tells Chris. "A sign of our bargain..." 

Chris can only stare at him, uncomprehendingly, too tired to take in what he's saying. Lane smiles at him, and his hand reaches out to stroke the young agent's tousled hair.

"Sleep!" he tells Chris firmly.

He does.

**Author's Note:**

> There may be a sequel. I'm trying, but its been a long time since I wrote fic (NCIS AND x FILES) and I'm 8 years out of practice!


End file.
